


Not One For Dreams

by farfarawaygirl



Series: The universe right next door [1]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Dancing away with my heart, F/M, Unrequited Love, how long until we get a happy ending, you’re breaking my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: •in the universe right next door•She looks happy. No, happy is not the right word, or maybe it’s look that he disagrees with. She is glowing from within, her feature’s lit up with incandescent jubilation. Sylvie turns back and grins up at him, “what?” She asks, “did I smudge my lipstick?”“I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times today, but you really are the most stunning bride.”Her cheeks flush with colour. If possible it makes her more appealing.“You have to say that, I’m standing here in front of you.”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett/Other(s)
Series: The universe right next door [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174250
Comments: 40
Kudos: 48





	Not One For Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, you know I’m not an editor, I’m just a person with a tv addiction, a writing problem and the comfort of my weighted blanket. 
> 
> This is part of a ‘what if’ I’m working on. 
> 
> I think it’s going to be a happy ending. Maybe. Who knows?

“You have to dance with me,” Sylvie says, her hand light on his shoulder, “I’m the bride and no one can deny me what I want today.”

Matt’s fairly certain he couldn’t deny her any day. 

“Come on.” She sticks her bottom lip out just a little, “please?” After that, Matt doesn’t fight her, he just stands up and follows her to the dance floor. She looks like every dream version of a bride, lace covering her arms, a sweetheart neck line, the back exposed with a row of silky buttons just at the base of her spine. Matt doesn’t have a word for Sylvie’s skirt other than frothy, which, objectively he knows doesn’t make sense, but it’s full and floats around her like a cloud. 

Did he mention the band of delicate pearls at her throat?

The sapphire tear drops in her ears? 

How Sylvie’s hair is curled just so?

It’s a lot to take in. He’s been discombobulated ever since her smiling face appeared at the end of the aisle. Everything about her today is burned forever into his brain. Her smile. Her laughter. The way she looks in that dress. Sylvie is distractingly beautiful on a bad day, today he can’t take his eyes off her. Matt had to remind himself to breathe as she floated down the aisle, had felt the keenness of both Severide and Stella’s eyes on him as she made her way to the alter. 

“You’re a million miles away.” Sylvie says, sliding her arms around his neck. 

Matt shrugs, feels the delicate fabric of her gown under his fingers. “I was just thinking of your speech, from earlier.”

Sylvie’s whole face breaks into a sunny smile, her lips crimson against her white teeth. “I must have written and rewritten that speech a million times.”

“Where’d you get the poetry?”

Laughing, Sylvie let’s Matt spin her out, and his breath is stolen. Seriously. That. Dress. 

This woman. 

“Would you believe me if I said Mouch?”

Now Matt’s the one laughing. “He’s always been an old sap.” They both turn to the far end of the dance floor, a loud cheer has just gone up, just in the middle of the circle of people they can see Gallo and Cruz. While Sylvie keeps her eyes on the team, Matt uses the opportunity to study her. 

She looks happy. No, happy is not the right word, or maybe it’s look that he disagrees with. She is glowing from within, her feature’s lit up with incandescent jubilation. Sylvie turns back and grins up at him, “what?” She asks, “did I smudge my lipstick?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times today, but you really are the most stunning bride.”

Her cheeks flush with colour. If possible it makes her more appealing. 

“You have to say that, I’m standing here in front of you.”

Matt spins her around again, delighting at her laugh. When she comes back in though, her focus, and that damned smile are pointed over his shoulder. 

“Can I steal my wife?”

Sylvie is out of his arms in an instant, moving the few feet away, and beaming up at Grainger. All Matt feels is bereft. Grainger sends him a smile, like he has for the last eighteen months, ever since he walked into their lives, really Sylvie’s life, and Matt makes a fist with his hand. 

It had just felt, for a long time, that a reconciliation between Matt and Sylvie was inevitable. At least it had felt that way to him. Because after he had screwed everything up, Sylvie had somehow forgiven him and slowly let him back in. Just, in that timeframe she had started to date Greg Grainger. And while the friendship between Matt and Sylvie had flourished, the relationship between Sylvie and Greg had caught on fire. 

Matt knew the nail was in the coffin when he helped Greg pick an engagement ring. And now, he was edging off the dance floor as Grainger spun her around. From twenty feet away he can still see the shine of her ring, the white gold band, and the rose cut diamond; not exactly what he would have chosen for her, but made more beautiful by her adoration of it. 

On the edge of the dance floor, a two year old Amelia is being spun around by Scott, her little blonde curls wild about her head. Matt can’t explain it, but when he looks at Amelia, it’s like he is looking at a future he could have had if he had been brave, if he had been honest. Stopping her spin, she catches sight of him, and waves her little arms. In the last two years he has grown to love this little human, this part of Sylvie. He’s travelled to visit, and today he stood at the front of the church and coached her down the aisle when Scott released her from the back. 

Kneeling down, Matt scoops her up. 

At two and a half she is insanely cute, all blonde curls, blue eyes and mischief in every line of movement. She’s Sylvie in miniature. Amelia lays a sticky hand against his cheek, her fingers digging in, giggling like mad when he tickles her. 

“This kid has more energy than any firefighter in Chicago.” At Matt’s words Scott just laughs. 

“Give her a moment,” Scott’s voice is soft, “I feel a sugar crash coming on.”

They move back to their seats, just to the right of the head table. Amelia curling her little arms around Matt’s neck and holding on, her little shoes kick against his stomach. They’re white leather with small pink bows on the buckle, Sylvie had agonized over them or an other pair that were pink suede. Matt had helped her pick them one night weeks ago in the common room at 51. 

Scott is eyeing him shrewdly, a little bit of pity and compassion in his eyes. “Julie thought this day would go a little differently.” Matt hears the question there; what happened with you two? 

Looking over his shoulder, Matt easily finds Sylvie in the crowd, it’s a particular gift of his. Sylvie radar. “Yeah.” It’s not exactly an agreement, but it’s also not a denial of what Scott is hinting at. In a different life this man would have been Matt’s pseudo-step-father-in-law. 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Matt shakes his head, moving his hand up Amelia’s back. “You?”

Scott raises a brow, “with what time?”

From over on the dance floor, Sylvie laughs, and they turn in their seats to watch. 

“It’s sort of like a time machine.” Scott muses. “If I look one way, it’s Julie, if I look an other, it’s who Amelia will be.”

The situation is different for Matt. He looks at Sylvie and he sees a different life, maybe the life he could have had if he had been braver, been smarter. Had known himself better. It’s painful. He’s forty and the love of his life just married someone else. He can’t picture waking up with anyone else, can’t see a future with anyone who isn’t Sylvie Brett. 

He’s not sure what that means.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, how are we feeling? Leave a comment!!! 💜♥️💛💚💙


End file.
